


Scar Tissue

by chelsealoowho



Series: Marvel High School- The Marvel Heroes [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Amadeus is Trans, Angst and Humor, Brotp, Foster Care, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Trans Character, i refuse to normalize that shit, there will never be transphobia or homophobia in my works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelsealoowho/pseuds/chelsealoowho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade Wilson is a foul-mouthed juvenile delinquent that feels lost in the world but luckily he meets awkward and shy whiz-kid, Peter Parker. </p><p>The start of a new school is a new start for Wade...or so he thinks.</p><p>With the help of some new found friends, Wade will find a place of belonging for the first time in ....well, in forever</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wade Makes It

**Author's Note:**

> I really love High School AUs and I really love the Marvel Comics Universe so I combined my loves and made this baby.  
> Alas, this is my first fan fiction. Please don't kill me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of a new chapter in Wade's terribly written memoir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AS OF 3-21-17, I HAVE COMPLETELY REWRITTEN THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER AND PLAN TO REWRITE AND EDIT THE WHOLE THING!
> 
> Thank you for the hits and comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> <333

At 16 years, 4 months and 13 days old, Wade Wilson was about to start his tenth school in his eleven year academic career.

 

_ Holy fuck,  _ he thought to himself,  _ When will I ever have a stable and peaceful existence? Does such a thing even exist? Or is the media lying to me? Again. _

 

He rolled over in his new bed -new to him, anyway. There was no telling how many other “disturbed and deranged” teenage boys had slept here and he wasn't about to ask.

 

Wade’s case worker said that the Freelanders specialized in teenage boys with emotional issues. Wade didn't know what his new fosters brothers issues were, but he knew his own. And if anyone, other than a group home or lockdown facility was willing to take him with full disclosure of his tragic backstory (honestly, it was the tale of an anti-hero in the making), he was going to be hella thankful. He had spent months in juvenile detention; weeks in level-four facilities where he had to wear scrubs and be escorted to the toilet; he even had numerous trips to the psych ward all because no foster parents wanted to take in teenagers. Especially teenage boys. They all wanted little kids. Little kids that could be molded into the parent’s ideal image of what the child should be.

 

And that was just fucked up.

 

The bed was comfy, at least. A huge thumbs up to the Freelanders for spending their state foster child stipend on something for their foster kids instead of on themselves. Most of Wade’s previous foster parents had only taken in foster children for the money and did nothing for the children. No clothes, no quality food, no school supplies. Not even good ol’ knock-off Blue Box Mac ‘n Cheese.

 

He heard horror stories from other kids in his other placements and sometimes he thought he lucked out with his previous foster homes and shelters and group homes. He had one terrible home. One terrible time. Other kids kept getting placed in horrible and abusive places. But no, not Wade. He only had the one. Hell, he’d even spent a month in a juvenile lock-up facility for taking one for the team...and that was better than his fifth family....his worst family….if they could even be considered a family….a family of child abusers.

He shuttered to himself.

 

_ No, Wade, don't think about them. Don't think about them. But it's kinda hard not to when I look in the mirror and see the scars. _

 

He couldn't lay in the dark anymore; he silently maneuvered himself out of his blankets, down the bunk bed ladder and through the room and into the adjoining bathroom. He closed the sliding door as silently as possible not to wake his roommate, Max. 

 

Wade had only been in this placement for three days, but he liked Max. Max was a cool guy that played video games religiously and told goofy jokes. Max was a pretty chill guy. Max also had the personality of a squirrel: One minute he was chill in his metaphorical tree, the next he was losing his metaphorical nuts….like the squirrel in  _ Over the Hedge.  _ Wade didn't know what was going on with Max, but he hoped he had a positive support system. And if not, Wade was going to volunteer for that.

 

Wade turned on the bathroom light and accidentally looked at himself in the mirror.

 

_ Bad idea,  _ he thought,  _ now you can see yourself for what you truly are: A fucked up freak. _

 

He couldn't stop staring at himself. He was a mess; his shaggy, long, brown hair was everywhere. The bags under his eyes were a deep plum and his cheekbones were protruding from his face.

 

_ Jesus, I look like Skeletor’s hairy illegitimate son! _

 

He was thin. Too thin. But that was his own fault. He was thankful that he had his shirt on or else he’d have to see the scars on his chest and arms. 

 

After what felt like five minutes of disassociating in front of the mirror, Wade pulled himself out of the trance and towards the bathtub. The shower was broken so he had to take a bath like a six-year old.

 

_ Rub-a-dub-dub, where's the rubber duck? And when are they gonna fix the tub? _

 

He went through the motions: capping the drain; running scalding hot water; adding the  _ The Little Mermaid  _ bottle of bubble bath until the bubble to water ratio was out of whack; he stripped off his t-shirt and shorts and hopped in.

 

It was hot. Too hot. But it was the way he liked it. It made him feel again. He relaxed and sighed deeply to himself.

 

He softly sang to himself, “Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream. Ha, ha I tricked you: I'm a submarine.”

 

_ New school. New faces. New personalities to clash with. New teachers to piss off. New. It's all new. Who knew? _

 

He chuckled to himself. Too loudly because he could hear movement coming from the bedroom. He took his time.

 

Wade removed himself from the tub twenty minutes later looking like a lobster, he could still hear Max stirring in the room.

 

“Hey, Max,” he called out, toweling off, “You up?”

 

There was a short silence before a drawer slammed and Wade took that as a yes.

 

“I'll be out in a sec,” He called.

 

Max was not a morning person. At all. The kid wasn't awake until way after two in the afternoon. The past few mornings of watching Max get ready for school as Wade waited to be enrolled were rather humorous. Slamming drawers, groggy baths, tripping over his pants as he tried to put them on while brushing his teeth. It was like watching a decent episode of  _ The Three Stooges. _

 

Wade wrapped the towel around his waist and looked over to the mirror. Luckily, the mirror was fogged over and he couldn't see his reflection.

 

He exited the bathroom as Max shimmied past, slamming the sliding door behind him. Wade got dressed and left the room for the kitchen.

 

“Dude!” Max called from behind the door, “Turn on the vent next time!”

 

“Sorry!”

 

The kitchen was empty when he got there, when the timer dinged signalling that his Shrimp-flavored ramen was done, his other foster brother came sauntering into the room.

 

Quentin Beck. 

 

Quentin was the complete opposite of Max: He was put together, his attire and the mask he wore around people; he was in control- and controlling; and he thought everyone was beneath him.

 

He gave Wade the heebie-jeebies.

 

_ He had nothing else to give. _

 

“Where's my TOP ramen, Wadey?” Quentin asked as he took a seat across from Wade.

 

“I dunno,  _ bruh, _ ” Wade took a large portion of his ramen into his mouth and began to slurp, not breaking eye contact with Quentin.

 

Quentin stared back with malice in his eyes. Malice Wade knew accompanied violence later on when someone didn't get their way. 

 

The staring contest lasted until their foster father’s cheerful voice rang out from the hall, “Morning, boys!” the middle-aged man made his way to the pantry, pulled out some kind of granola bar and stood before the kitchen table, “Where's Max?”

 

“Gettin’ dressed, sir.” Wade choked out between deep throating his noodles.

 

“Oh, well,” the man stood awkwardly hovering over the teenagers, “Well, if you boys are ready, we are leaving in fifteen minutes, so gather your things and meet me in the Volvo.”

 

“Will do, Francis,” Quentin said.

 

“Um, what did I say about calling me by first name, son?”

 

Quentin turned his body to face Mr. Freelander and gave him a confrontational look, “Not to…?” he sneered.

 

“Yes...hmm, well, I’ll meet you in the car.” Mr. Freelander quickly made his way out of the kitchen leaving the two teenagers alone again.

 

“Dude! Why are you such a tool?” Wade asked, getting up and throwing his plastic bowl into the kitchen sink.

 

“What? It’s not like they’re gonna throw me out. I’ve got them wrapped around my finger.” Quentin got up from his chair and followed Mr. Freelander out of the room.

 

Wade let out a disgruntled sigh. Some people just didn’t know how lucky they were. And some people shouldn’t have such good luck. Quentin was one of those people that shouldn’t have all the good things he had. But manipulation was apparently a very handy skill to have, especially in foster care.

 

“Hey, did I miss breakfast?” Max’s shaky voice came from behind him.

 

Wade turned around and looked at his roommate; his outfit was messy, his glasses askew and his hair could give Harry Potter’s unmanageable locks a run for their money.

 

“It was, as always, a free-for-all, dude.” Wade walked over to the pantry and grabbed Max two granola bars, “Shh, don’t tell Mrs. Freelander.”

 

“I-I won’t,” Max stammered, shoving one granola bar in his jacket pocket and unwrapping the other and shoving half of it in his mouth.

 

Wade gave him a pat on the shoulder and left the kitchen to retrieve his backpack.

  
  
  


The drive to school was less orderly than Wade had expected: Mr. Freelander had classic rock blaring and singing along as Quentin took on the difficulties of playing air drums and Max did the air guitar solos. Wade couldn’t help but laugh at Mr. F’s impersonation of Billy Gibbons.

As they pulled into the circle drive of the large high school, Mr. Freelander turned down the tunes, “Remember boys, don’t skip class, turn in your work and respect the ladies. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” The three teenagers chorused.

_ Weird. _

“I’ll show you to the principal’s office, if y-yo-you’d like, W-Wade.” Max offered as they walked up the front steps of the school.

 

“Sure, Max! Lead the way, my guy!”

 

Wade watched as Quentin veered away from them and towards some shady looking kids hanging out under the shade of a giant elm tree.

 

_ Was that why they were called ‘shady kids’ cuz they wore dark colors, looked like Peter Pan’s disgruntled shadow and actually hung out in the shadows?! _

 

The kids looked like they knew the true value of shit Wade didn’t want to think about but he committed their faces to memory for future avoidance. 

 

“So, got any tips for me, Maximilian?” Wade asked as they made their way through the halls.

 

“Umm, yeah, avoid Quentin. Avoid his f-f-friends.” He turned to Wade, glasses hella skewed, “They are into s-some s-stuff,”

 

Wade reached out and fixed Max’s glasses, “Yeah, I figured.”

 

“We’re here, by the way, but I g-gotta get to the science lab; my buddy Bruce has s-something cool to show us dorks before class.” Max jestered to a door a foot behind Wade and then turned tail and briskly walked away.

 

Wade watched as Max made his exit, “Gosh, I love that nerd.” he said fondly.

 

Wade turned towards the door but before he could reach out and open it, the door opened reached out for his face.

 

“OW! HOLYFUCKINSHITOW!”

 

The door collided right into Wade’s straight and perfect male model-esque noise. He covered his face with his hands and curled into himself hoping his one good feature wasn’t damaged.

 

“Fuck! I am so sorry!” came a voice from behind the door, “Holy crap, dude, are you okay? Oh man, I’m so sorry,”

 

Wade felt hands on his hands, he opened his eyes and saw a pretty boy standing there trying to assess the damage he caused.

 

“Oh gawd, why does this always happen to me?” the pretty boy was shaking, “Oh man, are you okay? There’s no blood. That’s a good sign right?”

 

Wade let the other boy pull his hands away from his face, “Does it look bad?” Wade asked. “Do I look like Sonny Moore? Do I need to use my bangs as a defense against my ugly?”

 

The boy gave Wade a very confused and serious look. 

 

“Who the fuck is Sonny Moore?” Is all he said.

 

Wade let out a hysterical laugh.

 

And the boy kept looking at him.

 

This lasted for about thirty seconds: Wade crouched down laughing his scrawny ass off with pretty boy crouching across from him, Wade’s wrists in his hands, just watching in a very confused state. The deep voice of someone calling out, “PARKER!” broke them apart.

 

“Dr. Octavius!” the pretty boy, apparently named Parker, dropped Wade’s arms and stood up straight. “Wha-what’s up?” he stammered.

 

“What the heck have you done to our new student?” Dr. Octavius bellowed.

 

Wade stopped laughing and stood up beside Parker taking in Dr. Octavius’ full form.

 

Dr. Octavius was a portly and tall man and if Wade had any common sense he would have kept his mouth shut but Wade didn’t have any common sense and said exactly what he was thinking.

 

“He needs four more limbs to be considered an Octavius, yes?”

 

Parker tried to stifle his giggle while Dr. Octavius turned his attention to Wade. “Wilson, yes? I’ve read your file, kid. You should know I won’t hesitate to discipline problem kids like yourself. You’ve been warned. Now come into the office and get your schedule from Miss Crane.” the portly man turned his attention-and belly- back to Parker, “And you, Parker, will show him to the nurse’s office.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Parker answered, “No problem.”

 

“Good, now enjoy your day, boys.” Dr. Octavius gave the boys one last glaring lookover and walked down the hallway.

 

“Dude,” Wade turned to Parker, “That was kinda intense. I’m Wade, bee-tee-dubs.” He held out his hand for the other boy.

 

The boy took Wade’s hand, “Peter. Peter Parker. Now, uh, let’s get your schedule. And I’m super sorry for the door.” 

 

“Not a prob,” Wade went to open the door, “It’s not like you have x-ray vision so consider yourself forgiven.”

 

They entered the office and retrieved Wade’s class schedule. 

  
  


Peter escorted Wade to the nurse’s office but the nurse wasn’t in.

 

“So, what’s your first class?” Peter asked as they hung out in the hall.

 

Wade looked over the small slip of white paper, “History with Grey.”

 

“Hell yeah!” Peter chimed, “That’s my first class, too! Let’s go!”

 

“So, you from here?” Wade asked.

 

“Yeah, I’ve lived here my whole life...okay, not my whole life, but since I was eight I’ve lived in this city. I was born in New York, but my parents,” Peter looked over at Wade questionable, “Wait, am I giving you too much backstory too soon?”

 

“Nah, man. We don’t have to wait until issue twenty-three to get to the good stuff.” he joked.

 

“Okay, okay. So, yeah, my parents, they, um, died when I was eight and they left me to my aunt and uncle. My aunt and uncle are great. Really kind and understanding.” Peter turned to look at Wade, “What about you? Why are you transferring in the middle of a semester?”

 

“Foster care.” Wade deadpanned, “I’m in foster care and we just go where we have to when we have to.”

 

“Ah, I know a lot of kids in foster care here. There’s is Max, Quentin, Mary and Clint.”

 

The last name struck a chord with Wade. “Clint Barton?”

 

“Yeah! You know him?” Peter stopped walking, “Uh, this is our class.”

 

“Cool. Yeah, we were housemates once.” Wade knew to be vague about other foster care kid’s information. “So, is this Grey teacher a cool teacher?”

 

Peter smirked, “Yeah, yeah! He’ll let you sit with your friends as long as you don’t disrupt his class. He’s super chill. You can sit with me!”

 

“Cool, cool.” 

 

They walked into the classroom and were immediately accosted by a very short girl with a very stereotypical anime haircut. “Peter! What the hell? I heard you tried to T.K.O a new kid with the junior class office doctor?” She turned to Wade, “Is this him? He’s not as grungy as everyone was saying. I was under the impre-”

 

“Hello, Ama, how are you?” Peter interrupted her, “Yes, this is him. Wade is his name.”

 

The girl took in Wade’s appearance and Wade took in her’s. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds before Ama broke the silence. “Pleased to meet you, Wade. I see you’ve met the class goober, Peter.”

 

“Yes, hello, Ama, I’m Wade. What do you mean everyone was calling me grungy?” He tried to sound light and funny but people were already talking about him and this always made him nervous.

 

“Oh, fear not. The school chat was just saying how someone got hit in the head by Parker here,” she threw Peter a very foul look, “But don’t worry. Everyone talks about everyone here!”

 

She started to throw a volley of questions at him before he was graciously saved by a soft voice behind them, “Find your seats, please, the bell will be ringing any second.”

 

Peter pulled Wade towards the back of the glass as Ama took a seat in the front. The bell rang and Wade’s first day at Marvel High had officially begun.

  
  



	2. Wade Pool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yahoooo!! chapter twoooo!!!

Forty-five minutes in Mr. Grey’s. World History class was like forty-five years in a Ben Stein lecture about microscopic germs. The teacher droned on and on and half the class was asleep, doing something unrelated to schoolwork, or falling asleep. 

 

Wade watched as Ama jotted down page after page of notes, and Peter played an old-school GameBoy under his desk. Some students were flat out asleep with books piled on their desks as makeshift pillows. Some were texting or live-tweeting their boredom. None of this seemed to bother Mr. Grey, however. He kept on with his boring lesson plan.

 

“Now, who can tell me why three hundred Imperial Maids committed suicide after Emperor Chongzhen committed suicide.” One hand shot up (the only one really paying attention), “Yes, Miss Cho.”

 

Ama stood up and began speaking at  _ Speed Racer  _ speed, “Because it was the honorable thing to do. Like in most Eastern cultures and most prominently, Asian cultures, honor to family, country and ancestors is one of the main driving points of their societies. Also, Mr. Grey, over seven hundred Imperial Scholars committed suicide. Don’t just make this about ladies and woe, okay?” She sat back down and looked over her shoulder at Wade, winked and then glared at Peter before turning her attention back to Mr. Grey.

 

_ Someone’s got a Hermione complex. _

 

“Yes, thank you Miss Cho. Now, let’s continue with the conquering forces--”

 

Mr. Grey’s dreary Professor Binns-esque voice was drowned out by Peter leaning over and whispering, “Dude, I think Ama likes you.”

 

Wade looked over at Ama Cho jotting down more notes, no doubt about Emperor Suicide. She was very focused and Wade wished he had the ability to focus that hard. She was nice when he walked in the class, and she was cuter than a button. But most of all, Wade envied Ama’s mismatched Rainbow Bright-wannabe knee-high socks. 

 

_ Cute _ , Wade thought to himself. He let out a small smile. He looked back over at Peter who had a shit-eating grin on his face. 

 

“What?” Wade whispered, “She’s, uh, cool-looking and smart, I guess. But I ain’t lookin’ for a lady--” 

 

“Ah yeah?” Peter shut off his GameBoy and shoved it in his hoodie pocket, “So what are you looking for?”

 

_ That was a loaded fucking question. _

 

Wade was looking for a lot of things in life; Normalcy, his mother, a one-way ticket out of adolescence, friends… Nothing he could really say out loud to a kid he just met. So he said the first sarcastic thing he could think of:

 

“I'm lookin’ for Ryan Reynolds to be my sugar daddy.”

 

_ Wink, wink. _

 

Peter cracked up laughing, gaining the attention of Mr. Grey and the conscious classmates.

 

“Is there something we should know, Mr. Parker?” Mr. Grey turned towards the class and glowered at Peter.

 

“No, sir,” Peter smiled politely at the teacher.

 

“Okay then, now if the driving forces were-” Mr. Grey turned his back and continued to drone on.

 

So apparently it was okay to nap, text, chat, or play video games in Mr. Grey’s class as long as it wasn't disruptive to Mr. Grey himself.

 

_ Good to know… _

 

“Sorry,” Wade whispered. 

 

“No biggie, dude.”

 

The bell rang signaling the end of History. Peter and Wade grabbed their bags and were halfway to the door before being accosted by Ama again.

 

“So, how’d you like your first class?” Her tone was very first-year Hermione, asking without waiting for a response. “I know Mr. Grey can sound like Ben Stein sometimes, but he is a great teacher. One of the best teachers in this school, frankly. And his class is like, super easy to pass because his tests are open book.” She stood on her toes, still a foot or so shorter than Wade and Peter. Her eyes were maliciously focused on Peter for a few seconds before she let out a sigh, about-faced and began to walk to the hall; Wade shot Peter a confused look and Peter shrugged, following Ama into the hallway.

 

“I thought he was good: as good as Professor Binns!” He tried to throw a Harry Potter reference in but it went past both Ama and Peter.

 

They walked in silence for a few seconds before Peter asked, “Was Professor Binns a former teacher of yours?”

 

“No, um, it was a Harry Potter joke.”

 

“Oh,” Peter blushed, “Oh! I should have known that. Ama and I met at a Harry Potter book release.”

 

“Shut up,  _ Peter _ Pettigrew in training.” Ama mumbled from the other side of him.

 

Peter stopped dead in the hallway, “I would never betray you, Ama! Especially not like that!”

 

“Oh yeah,” Ama countered, stopping, too, “So why did you change my preferred search engine on my own personal computer to fucking  _ BING _ ?”

 

Wade couldn’t help but chortle.

 

“It’s not like I sold you out to Moldy Voldy, Amadeus!”

 

“Honestly, no one uses Bing,  _ Salieri _ .” Ama huffed.

 

“I use Bing,” Peter mumbled on Wade’s other side.

 

There was obviously more bad history between the two than just the Bing Incident™ but Wade wasn’t going to ask because knowing his track record for moving, he probably wouldn't be enrolled in Marvel High by December.

 

_ So why bother. _

 

Wade watched as the two glowered at each other. He then realized they were causing a traffic jam in the hallway and pulled both of them towards the wall of lockers. “As amusing as you two are, I need to find my next class,” he pulled out his rumpled schedule, “Which is….swimming! Wait. Seriously?”

 

Peter and Ama turned to Wade, “Hey cool, that’s our next class, too!” Peter said.

 

“Luckily, we were going in the right way or else we’d be late.” Ama started to walk again.

 

“Swimming? Seriously, there is a pool-nasium in this school?”

“Dude, its called a natatorium.” Peter side-eyed Wade.

“Shit, thanks. I'm not well-educated.” Wade laughed a little too loud at his true joke.

 

“Yes, that means you have Coach McKenzie with me and Peter. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say McKenzie was a merman! What til you see him swim!” 

 

Peter let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, he's also the most handsome teacher. All the students agree that he'd give Aquaman run, or should I say,  _ swim  _ for his money.”

 

“No, no, no,” Ama continued, “For his  _ sanddollars _ !”

 

The pair of them started to laugh uncontrollably.

 

Wade couldn't wait to meet this teacher.

 

Peter and Ama’s laughter slowly died down as they made their way down to the first floor, through- what Wade guessed as the Commons, and another hallway until they finally reached exterior doors.

 

“The school, the gymnasium and natatorium are separate buildings.” Ama explained to Wade as a cool fall breeze greeted them as they hit an outside courtyard. “The other high school in town  Archie High had a natatorium first and kept taking home state championships so a very generous and jealous alumni donated money for our very own pool! So now we are the state champs!”

 

Ama sounded very proud of this odd fact. Wade guessed she was on the team or had a friend on the team.

 

She led them into the Heroes Natatorium; it was adorned with State Champion flags, medals, murals of the Ambiguous Mascot (which seemed to take the form of any and all possible combinations of men and women donned in costumes rivaling that of Batman and Wonder Woman). Rows and rows of bleachers lined the walls surrounding the two pools; one for competitive swimming and the other, Wade guess, was for learning or synchronized swimming.

 

Wade hoped it was synchronized swimming.  That would be the cherry on his ice cream sundae.

 

“I’ll show you to Coach McKenzie, Wade!” Ama grabbed Wade by the arm and dragged him down more stairs and towards the coach’s office. She let go of his arm and knocked on the blue door. 

 

The door had a plaque on it reading,  **“Coach N. McKenzie. Do Not Disturb Unless Necessary.”**

 

“Excuse me, Coach McKenzie, we have a new student with us today.”

 

Wade didn't think announcing his arrival was necessary, but it was whatever. And he needed to ask for swim trunks if he wanted to learn synchronized swimming.

 

The door flung open and Wade’s jaw dropped. Ama was right; this Coach could totally pass for a sun-bathing-on-a-rock-and-singing-siren-songs merman. When Wade took the full view of the shirtless coach, he was expecting to see the potential merman with fins instead of legs.

 

“Child, what are you looking at?” Wade looked back up to Coach’s beautiful golden face. 

 

“Nothing, sir” 

 

_ Oh, it was something. _

 

“Do you understand the basic concepts of swimming? And if so, are you in possession of swimming trunks. What is your name?”

 

“Uhh, yes sir and no sir. Wade Wilson, sir.”

 

“Very well. You can acquire a pair from me and then demonstrate your basic knowledge of floating like a toddler.” Coach McKenzie yelled like a Drill Instructor and turned into his office and brought out a pair of new blue trunks.

 

Wade reached out and took the shorts from Coach Fins, “Thank you, sir. Do I give them back when I get my own?”

 

“Eww,” Coach McKenzie sneered, “No.”

 

Wade thanked the coach again and walked back over to Ama. She started asking him questions but he was drowning in his own thoughts. Wade thought about what the shorts meant for a second: He was going to be in a physical education class in nothing but swim trunks and his gnarly scars. He couldn't let anyone see his chest...he couldn't let anyone know...he couldn't explain it….

 

Wade about-faced and yelled at the swim teacher still standing in the office doorway, “Sorry, Coach, but can I have a discreet word with you?”  Wade tried to the give the stern (and oddly attractive) man the saddest look he could muster, but knowing his ugly mug, he probably looked like a gerbil sneezing.

 

“Why not,” the Coach gestured for Wade to enter his office.

 

Ama shot Wade a confused look as Wade walked into the office. Coach McKenzie closed the door behind him before he could give her a thumbs up letting her know it was okay or a wave goodbye.

 

“What is it, child?” McKenzie’s face softened, but his voice did not.

 

“Um, I didn't get to choose my classes or anything and I didn't know until, like, five minutes ago that I'd be in a swimming class...hence,” he lifted the trunks up, “no swim trunks of my own,”

 

“And?”

 

“Well, I have these, um, scars....from a bad chu-childhood experience...and,” Wade was stuttering his words now; something he hasn't done in years. “I was wuh-wuh-wondering if I could...wear...a shirt.”

 

Wade tried very hard to look into the Coach’s eyes, but talking about his scars was hard. And what of the man wanted to see them as proof. What were the rules for wearing shirts in the pool? Were there swim shirts he could wear? He couldn't take it if the other kids stared. He'd have to ask to transfer out of the class. He would probably get stuck with some lame walking class instead. Peter and Ama might ask questions (if they cared that much).

 

Finally, after a few seconds of very awkward silence, Coach McKenzie turned away, pulled a shirt that matched the trunks out from a file cabinet, “If you need something, let someone like me know, okay?” He handed the shirt to Wade, “Now get changed.”

 

“Thank you so much, Coach!”

 

Coach McKenzie ushered Wade out of his office and locked the door behind them. Wade stood there feeling grateful. MerCoach was pretty cool. Scary, but cool.

 

Wade looked around for Ama, but she had disappeared. 

 

_ Probably went to change already.  _

 

“Thank you, sir.” Wade shouted again and watched as Coach McKenzie walked up the flight of stairs Peter was coming down from.

 

“So, did you get shorts from Merman?” Peter asked when he was face-to-face with Wade again.

 

“Yeah! And a shirt!” Wade exclaimed and held up the shirt.

 

“What the fuck, dude? Why’d Coach let you have a shirt?!”

 

Wade didn't want to explain it. He couldn't explain it. Why should he explain it when the last person he explained it to didn't stick around much longer. Peter was nice enough, but he didn't want to scare him off. Or burden the poor guy with his problems. He was reminded of what a staff member said at his previous placement, **“You don't have to explain shit to nobody.”**

 

So Wade just shrugged and said, “Because I asked. And where is the locker room?”

 

Other students were coming in and out of the corridor from somewhere; some were in swimsuits and others in normal clothes rushing in the opposite direction to change into swimsuits.

 

Wade was pretty sure Peter didn't buy his answer, but it was true; Wade did ask. But he didn't owe shit to nobody.

 

“Follow me, dude.” Peter turned to walk but nearly ran into someone.

 

“Watch it, Parker!” A tall, blonde boy with a preppy-looking-trying-to-hard-to-be-cool-but-looking-like a-tool faux-hawk pushed Peter out of his way and into a wall. “Want a bruise on your jaw to mirror the one from last month” Wade watched; wondering what would transpire next and who this asshole was.

 

“Thanks for the offer, Flash, but I don’t think you would dare these days.” Peter gave Flash an unnerving look.

 

Well, it was unnerving for Wade because he had assumed Peter Parker was a clumsy, avid apologizer, and total textbook nerd. He didn’t think Peter had such a strong backbone. But this faux-hawk fucker’s mere existence seemed to piss Peter off. Which pissed Wade off.

 

Wade stepped between Peter and Flash as the latter was about to grab and shove Peter again, “Hey man, wuzzup, name is Wade, I’m new and need someone  _ cool _ to show me around. Wanna be that dude?”

 

The friendly approach threw Flash (and Peter) off guard. “Yeah, man. I’m Flash Thompson. Have you met with Coach yet?”

 

Flash led Wade away from Peter and down the hallway.  Looking over his shoulder, Wade threw Peter’s confused face a wink. 

 

“Yeah, he is a mermaid or something’?” reiterating the joke.

 

Flash laughed, leading him down another short corridor and into the locker room. “Everyone thinks Coach McKenzie is from the deep blue sea and even he thinks so. You should have seen him when he was teaching some kids to swim at the beginning of the semester. He was so pro that I don’t know if he realized that his technique was too good for beginners. Like, calm down Coach Fins!” Flash let out a jock-like laugh. 

 

_ Such funny boy made. _

 

Flash, (honestly, what kind of name is Flash, anyway), led Wade to a marked with a plaque reading, “BOYS LOCKER ROOM,” Flash, being a gentleman, opened the door for Wade.

 

Wade curtsied, “Why thank you kind, sir,” he said in a falsetto.

 

Flash laughed louder and followed Wade into the locker room. 

 

“So, yeah, this class is  _ way  _ easy, man.” Flash said as they walked down the atrium, “Just don't piss off McKenzie.”

 

They reached the center of the locker room; benches were squared in the center with lockers on two sides and an opening leading to the showers and toilets on another side with boys in various levels of undressing throughout the dank-smelling room.

 

“Welcome to Swimming class. Change, rinse off, go back upstairs to the pool and sit on the bleachers until McKenzie says otherwise.” Flash gave Wade a manly pat on the back and veered over to a group of three guys all changed and waiting about. “Yo, Jack, Johnny, Eros, we got a new guy! His name is Wade.” All three boys turned to Wade still lingering about in the precipice of the hall.

 

One of the boys was a short, super buff (probably overly-muscular to make up for his lack of height) guy with a haircut resembling that of a Marine; he gave Wade a wave. “Yo, we got a new guy and no one fuckin’ told me?” Super-Short-Buff-Stuff yelled across the locker room, “I’m Johnny Storm and don’t go fuckin’ with my sister, Susan.” Johnny gave him a sly glare and the whole locker room erupted in jeers aimed at Johnny’s sister.

 

_ The toxic hyper-masculinity is strong in this one. _

 

“I won't…?” Wade said unsurely.

 

Flash and the other boys laughed as Johnny glared at him.

 

“Don't mind him,” the other blond dude said, “He just thinks he’s protecting her but she could totally kick his ass!”

 

The boys chuckled again.

 

“Making friends?” a voice whispered passingly in his ear.

 

Peter walked past him; his eyebrows up to the ozone layer. Wade stealthily shook his head. Peter returned a nod as if he were saying,  _ uh-huh, suuure. _

 

Wade seriously disliked other dudes sometimes. He looked around the locker room again looking for the toilet stalls to change in.

 

He found the stalls and veered away from the center of the locker room. He changed as quickly as he could in the 5”×3” space and wadded his clothes into a ball and into his backpack. The swim shirt and trunks combo was lookin’ good.

 

He hastily opened the stall door and went back into the main area. The only remaining students were Peter who was slowly changing in front of his locker; Flash and Johnny were lingering by the exit chatting away. Wade didn't know where to put his backpack. He didn't know which locker was free.

 

_ Probably one that doesn't have shit in it, shithead. _

 

“Lost?” came a velvet smooth voice  in his right ear.

 

Wade jumped to see the third boy from Flash’s Macho Gang standing beside him. Wade had been too distracted by Flash and Johnny earlier to pay this golden god much thought, but now this fellow had his undivided attention.

 

Looking at the beautiful boy made Wade question everything about himself. Like, why couldn't he have won the Genetic Lottery? Why did he have to look like an emo kid circa 2005 at the height of My Chem’s  _ I'm Not Okay  _ era? He should just dye his hair black and sweep his badly cut bangs over one eye and complete the look! Why couldn't he be as handsome as this Adonis-lookin’ motherfucker with the sharp jawline, the golden eyes, and the perfect Cupid’s Bow?!

 

“Looking for a locker?” Wade finally said, making it sound like he was questioning himself.

 

_ Am I really looking for a locker or am I looking for more in this life? Like this guy's lips on mine? _

 

“Ah, I do believe there is one near Peter Parker.” he pointed towards Peter, but as Wade looked over again, all he saw was Peter's bare ass.

 

“Ah, fuck!” Wade whispered and turned away.

 

The handsome boy laughed, “Too much moonshine, Wade? I'm Eros, by the way.” Eros held out his hand for Wade to shake.

 

Wade looked Eros up and down again: he was the finest boy Wade had seen in his whole life. His skin was sun kissed and golden, his long brown hair was pulled in a ponytail.

 

_ Whoa. It's hearts-a-flutter crushin’ time! _

 

He reached out and shook Eros’ hand.”Wade,” he said dumbly; Eros already knew his name. 

 

Wade awkwardly held on to Eros’ hand. Eros could probably see the heart-eyes on Wade’s face.

 

“Are you going to let go?” Eros chuckled after a few seconds, “I do believe we should shower off and go upstairs.”

 

Wade instantly dropped Eros’ hand, face flushed, “Yeah, yeah. I dunno if I should locker next to Peter; he's kinda clumsy.”

 

“Yeah, I heard about that. Did he really hit you with a door  _ and _ his bookbag?” 

 

Wade knew it. Wade knew anything stupid or weird he did would reach the whole student body by second period.

 

_ Jeeeezeus. _

 

“He only hit me with the door,” Wade assured him.

 

At that moment, Peter slid up to Wade’s left side, wrapping his arm around Wade’s shoulders, “I sure did!”

 

“This is how true friendship is made, eh?” Wade asked, wrapping his arm around Peter’s waist.

 

Eros looked at them funny and bid them adieu.

 

Peter and Wade watched him go and continued to hold on to each other. Wade had about one thousand remarks for Eros’ amazing backside but 

 

_ Haha, but(t) _

 

He kept them to himself. For now.

 

“So, you wanna locker next to mine?” Peter asked.

 

“Yeah, I s'pose. Just don't hit me in the head with the locker door, yeah?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”

 

They showered off and made their way up to the pool area. Ama was waiting for them at the top of the bleachers where the rest of the class was waiting patiently for Coach McKenzie.

 

“Took you guys long enough,” she chided. “I was wondering if you two fell into a toilet or something.”

 

Peter and Wade side-eyed each other.

 

“Yeah, I fell into the toilet after Peter knocked me out with a stall door. Luckily, he dived in after me but unluckily, he accidentally flushed the toilet and we were swept down to the Ministry of Magic where your twin from another dimension, Hermione Granger, was the Minister for Magic. She had us interrogated about our Muggle business down there and luckily for us, Peter lied through his teeth and said we were there for the Muggle President of the United States. I dunno if she really believed us seeing as how we were in our swim trunks, but then again, we are uncouth Americans- actually, I'm Canadian, but no one outside the Western Hemisphere cares about that distinction. Yeah, so, she let us go eventually.”

 

Peter was laughing hysterically while Ama was trying her hardest to not laugh. “That was...interesting.” She finally said.

 

“Thanks, I'm a quick thinker...I think.” 

 

“Wade Wilson!” Coach McKenzie’s booming voice called from the bottom of the bleachers, pulling the students out of their respective gossip sessions and self-reflections. “Please get down here and demonstrate how you swim, or drown, for the whole class in the  _ wade  _ pool.” Coach McKenzie laughed loudly at his own pun. 

 

A few students snickered at Merman’s joke while most of the kids turned to look at the new student they hadn't noticed before.

Wade made his way down the bleachers focusing on the slippery stairs not looking at his classmates. When he safely reached the bottom and was face-to-face with McKenzie on the concrete floor, he stood at attention and saluted the coach,

“Recruit Wilson reporting for sinking, sir!” 

 

The class laughed nervously at Wade’s gall. Coach McKenzie looked at Wade with sheer resentment. 

 

_ He's probably regretting letting me have this shirt now. _

 

“Enter the pool using the step-ladder to my left and walk to the middle of the pool, when I say go, show me the breaststroke- and nothing inappropriate! If you feel the need to drown: wait until later.” Coach McKenzie told Wade.

 

_ Def regretting letting me have a shirt. _

 

“Aye, sir,” Wade did exactly as he was told but as he was treading through the water, he grabbed his pecs much to the amusement of the class. He turned around, dropped his hands, and waited for the Coach’s go.

 

Coach McKenzie glared ice daggers at Wade as he gave him the all clear. Wade started swimming down towards the deep end of the pool; he was slow, but he could swim. He passed the test.

 

“Out of the pool, Wilson.” The Coach looked down at his clipboard as Wade slowly swam to the nearest ladder, “Now today, we will be taking up where we left of yesterday: saving drowning victims!”

 

The class groaned.

 

“Can I be a victim?” Wade volunteered as he stood next to the Coach, dripping wet and smiling like a fool.

 

Students laughed but they were instantly silenced when a cold and cruel voice from beside the bleachers said, “Aren't you always, Wade?”

 

Everyone, including Coach McKenzie looked around to see who it was.

 

Wade dropped his hand, his face went slack, “Neena?”


End file.
